


just a decoy dream

by mortydazzler



Series: r&m twitter threads [2]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: He may be a genius but emotionally he's big stupid, It's not fine, Light Angst, M/M, Rick tries to avoid his problems and pretend like everything is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25196104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortydazzler/pseuds/mortydazzler
Summary: Morty's angry with him, so Rick takes his robot replica out for an adventure. Morty-bot is just a little too perceptive for Rick's liking.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Series: r&m twitter threads [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825270
Comments: 10
Kudos: 76





	just a decoy dream

Rick hated doing this, but he didn't have a choice. 

He'd been drinking heavily the day he built Morty-bot, which was par for his course, but by the time he'd gotten around to programming it-- him-- he'd been well and truly plastered. 

Morty-bot was a perfect imitation of his grandson, in form and in function, in his stuttering speech and anxious behavior. He'd fooled Beth on a number of occasions. Mother-tested, grandfather-approved. 

But as he'd teetered on the knife's edge of a blackout that night, Rick had added a few features that were only relevant when the two of them were alone.

"Wake up, Morty," he said, applying pressure at the base of Morty-bot's skull. Morty-bot smiled shyly at him as he gained consciousness, and Rick's stomach turned in sick satisfaction at the brilliance of his own work. 

The openness of that expression was a Drunk Rick original. Even in the present, Rick couldn't blame him. It fulfilled a need he didn't want to admit he had.

"Hi, Rick," said Morty-bot, rocking up onto his toes and raising his arms in a stretch that held no meaning for him. "What, what are we doing today?"

"Get in the ship," Rick replied. Morty-bot was quick to obey, hopping in without question. 

Rick had yet to discover an optimal autonomy setting. Too little made their interactions feel sterile and forced; too much, and Morty-bot formed unwanted desires and tried to override his protocols. It was a real pain in the ass.

He drove out of Earth's atmosphere, watched Morty-bot-- dammit, watched _Morty_ idly swing his legs as he stared out the window.

"Rick?" he said.

"Yeah?" 

"Is he m-mad at you? The other me?" 

_The real me,_ he meant. Rick's fingers tightened their grip on the steering wheel.

"Yeah," he replied, after a pause. "One brush with death too many, I guess."

"Oh," Morty said. Rick knew he didn't get the fear of death, not really. "Do you feel bad about it?" 

Rick laughed.

"W-what are you, a therapist? No, I don't. Little shit knows I'm more than capable of healing him up. He wants to sulk in his room, that's on him."

He watched Morty process this. 

"I don't think he's, like, doubting you for real," Morty said. "Getting hurt sucks, you know?"

Better than you would, Rick wanted to say. But he kept his mouth shut, wondering when he'd become such a pussy that he didn't want to hurt a robot's feelings. 

"A-and I think that, well, I think he probably just wants to know you care," Morty continued. "Being reminded that you're disposable, one Morty out of a million... it feels shitty. Like, like you're nothing."

Rick wanted to scream. Even the robot Morty had to be a damn psychologist in training.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Morty, decrease emotional intelligence by half and raise wide-eyed wonder by twenty percent."

"Okay, Rick."

It wasn't an unproductive conversation, Rick supposed. Now he knew why the flesh and blood Morty was so salty. He thought Rick didn't care if he lived or died, instead of understanding that Rick would heal any wound, cure any illness for him, no matter the cost. Danger was just an inherent property of his work-- that would never change. 

Whatever. Rick figured he'd have the abridged version of that conversation later, when he had a few more drinks in him.

They collected the plant extract that Rick needed without incident, making good enough time that they could stay to watch the sun go down. The sunsets on Accretia Prime were legendary, its electric blue sun giving way to a view of three pale violet moons. Morty oohed and ahhed, pulled at Rick's arm so he could press into his side. Rick bore it with minimal complaint. He sat and sipped at his flask until he deemed it time to go home, and they sped towards Earth in comfortable silence. 

In the garage, Morty looked up at him.

"Do I get it now?"

Rick's brow furrowed. "Get what?"

"My kiss," said Morty. 

Ah. Another drunken addition. Rick swore he'd get rid of it, one of these days.

"Yeah," he muttered, "yeah, sure."

Morty rose up on his tiptoes as Rick bent down, their lips meeting softly. It felt a little too real to Rick, who broke contact first, pulling against Morty's arms where they had looped around his neck.

"You'll a-apologize, right?" Morty asked. Rick thought about it.

"I'll talk to him," he said. He put a gentle hand on Morty's neck. "S'time to go to sleep, Morty."

Morty covered Rick's hand with his own, making him falter before he could press down. 

"Promise me, Rick, please."

Rick's face felt hot, a prickly feeling permeating him from the inside out. 

"F-fine, I promise. Christ, kid, you're something else, you know that?"

Morty beamed at him. "I know. Goodnight, Rick."

Rick caught him when his legs buckled, steering Morty-bot back to his charging port in the cabinet. He cast a glance at the ceiling, towards Morty's room, considering getting it over with now. Then he sighed and sat down with a bottle of vodka.

Soon, Rick thought. He'd get to it soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Minor edits made from the thread to improve readability. The title is part of an Owl City lyric.
> 
> Comments/kudos appreciated! If you like this, consider visiting me @mortydazzler on Twitter! I could always use new friends.


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